


Scour The Rust From Your Veins

by supernovae (carpesdiem)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Tiny traces of fluff towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpesdiem/pseuds/supernovae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've both been bruised and battered, but what's important is that they've both been there to provide comfort when the other was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>You got wires, going in</i></p>
<p>  <i>You got wires, coming out of your skin</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Scour The Rust From Your Veins

**Author's Note:**

> {a prompt} Based on 'Wires' by Athlete.

**I.**

His fingers could barely stop shivering like leaves in a strong gust of autumn wind as they hovered over the brightly lit screen of his phone. Breathing in deeply, he attempted to still his hands, before typing out a message to Jackson that instructed him to look for Lydia out on the lacrosse field. Having tapped out every last bit of calm his body could find, he stuffed the phone back into his pocket, his eyes immediately falling on the mangled limbs of the girl on the grass. Stiles fought the tears that choked his eyes, gently kneeling down next to her while his nails dug deep into his palms. Settling on the trampled grass, he gazed intensely at where her beautiful green eyes should have been looking back at him, or through him. Either way, he could not stop the feeling of a hand reaching down into his throat to uproot his heart as he lightly traced the side of her face with trembling fingers.

 

_I’m sorry._

 

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Stiles let a few tears find their way down his cheeks. She wasn’t supposed to see these things. She wasn’t supposed to feel them either. Lydia was supposed to be safe from the hidden world of claws and glowing eyes, at least for as long as possible. He was supposed to make sure of that. Pressing his lips together, he tried not to think about what a terrible job he’d done.

 

Seeing Lydia’s neatly ironed dress in it’s present tarnished state, he couldn’t help but think back to the first day he’d seen her, with a Prussian blue frock and French-plaited hair. (God help him if he knew how on earth he remembered such things.) She had settled down on the seat in front of him in General Knowledge, not bothering to even throw him a glance. The number of embarrassing things Stiles had done for the remainder of that period were probably his highest score.

 

The spark in her scarlet hair had stunned him eight years ago, and his heart had never exactly recovered. And right there, where he sat watching the brightness fade from her curls, he could feel his heart crack multiple times. He couldn’t lose her, he wouldn’t allow it to happen.

 

"Stiles!" A command pulled him out of his daze, Peter’s voice making him grit his teeth.

 

"I’m coming," he hollered back, slowly standing up from his crouch, his fingers leaving the dried blood on her temple on which he quickly placed a kiss. Unwillingly walking away from her still frame, he convinced himself of all that was at risk if he didn’t help Peter and decided to stay with her. He just wished the ground wouldn’t swallow her up the way it was in his panicking mind.

 

_You got wires, going in_

_You got wires, coming out of your skin_

 

“No, he’s here. I swear to God he’s here.”

 

Lydia didn’t think she had ever walked as unsteadily and as swiftly as she did when she stepped through the gates of Eichen house. Her insides churned with self-doubt and worry, but she knew how important it was to find Stiles. The air around her was growing chilly as it is, and even pushing through the front doors didn’t seem to help the goosebumps erupting on her flesh. Her heart faltered when she thought about Stiles stuck in a basement with no available heat until he stopped shivering to save his body’s.

 

She couldn’t let that happen.

 

"I need access to all basement rooms in this facility."

 

She stood back and clenched her fists tightly while waiting, until the Sheriff signaled that it was alright to walk further in. Her feet ran through the halls, threatening to buckle under her weight as her mind calculated the average rate of blood loss that could be caused by whatever it was that Stiles had gotten stuck in. The results were not pleasing.

 

She shut her eyes tightly before trying to trigger her supernatural sense, focusing on Stiles’ aura and anything and everything related to him she knew about. She thought about the clothes he slept in, whose scent she knew by heart now due to all those times she had to stay over and borrow them. She tried to remember every conversation they had had, hoping it would give her a hint. She scourged her thoughts for answers, for a glimpse of Stiles in the cluttered mess everyone called the mind of a banshee. It worked.

 

Her eyes flew open, as she shakily pointed the way.

 

Once they reached the final door, the group moved forward, Aiden’s hand slipping out of hers as she descended the stairs right after the sheriff, her eyes brimming with tears. It’s here. _It’s right here._

 

"Stiles," she croaked, "Stiles?"

 

She heard his name being called out multiple times, as she looked around the seemingly empty basement. Her lips trembled, and she scanned the scenery in front of her again, finding no trace that a teenage boy had been trapped in these walls, no blood on the ground. Her heart finally stopped. “I don’t get it. This has to be it.”

 

Her voice was a whisper, the gravity of the situation suddenly crashing onto her shoulders. Where was he? How could she be so wrong, so many times?

 

"Then where is he, huh?" The sheriff’s tough tone pierced her ears, "Where is he? Where is he?"

 

The sudden volume threw her backwards, a tear escaping her eye. She shook her head, mumbling about how she didn’t know, how she wanted to see him as much as he did, how she was so, so sorry for letting everyone down. Her vision blurred as she was dragged back upstairs by a pair of hands, hearing echoes of Stiles’ laughter in her mind, knowing that they weren’t part of her powers - simply memories she’d now begun to cherish. When it might be too late.

 

_You got tears, making tracks_

_I got tears, that are scared of the facts_

 

“Well, actually, considering that she’s a woman - twice a month.” Peter had said, the smugness dripping from his words.

 

Biting his tongue, Stiles tried not to trip over the hedges along the side of the road. He couldn’t picture Lydia wiping her own blood from her hands every time she had to anchor herself to a humane feeling. He couldn’t bear to imagine her washing out the blood from her nail beds every time she had a manicure, watching the red swirl down the drain along with all hopes of a stable life.

 

He inhaled sharply, emptying his mind from horrific thoughts. His only aim was to reach the hospital as fast as he could, seeing that Peter had ruined his keys and left him in an abandoned parking lot farther from his destination than his stamina would like. But it didn’t matter. Finally seeing the hoarding in front of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, he collected every ounce of energy he had and bolted towards the doors. Shouldering them open, he asked for Lydia in a jumble of words and an onslaught of tears suddenly rising to his eyes. The nurse was slightly shaken, but directed him to the next floor nonetheless. Stiles could barely open the door without tumbling into a pile of bones, when he saw his father standing in front of him, looking furious.

 

“You know what? It’s good that we’re in a hospital, because I’m gonna kill you.” The sheriff growled, making him wince.

 

“I’m - I’m sorry. I lost the keys to my jeep,” he quickly lied, looking over his dad’s shoulder into the room holding the now peaceful looking girl, “I had to run all the way here.”

 

“Stiles, I don’t care!” Sheriff Stilinski responded, creasing his eyebrows.

 

“Is she gonna be okay?” Stiles’ voice was weak, but audible.

 

“They don’t know, partially because they don’t know what happened.”

 

His father then went on to explain how her body was having some sort of an allergic reaction, during which he had to try really hard not to focus on Lydia’s features. He couldn’t comprehend what could possibly be going wrong. All he knew was, she should be healing by now, and if she didn’t start soon, something unspeakable could happen. The air was sucked out of his lungs when he even thought about losing her, everything he still had to find out about her puncturing them. He half-heartedly answered the questions he was posed, trying not to see claws growing from her fingers in his peripheral vision. He had so much left to tell her, so many things left to do with her. She couldn’t leave him.

 

Not yet. Not ever.

 

_Running, down corridors through, automatic doors_

_Got to get to you, got to see this through_

 

She collapsed into Scott’s arms when they finally found him. The Sheriff sighed in boundless relief, immediately unlocking the police vehicle and ushering them inside, tears visible at the corners of his eyes. The drive to the hospital was a haze, and all she could think about was the empty basement in Eichen house, the image of Stiles being in it still firmly placed in her mind’s inner eye. Lydia shook herself out of it, straightening her dress and telling herself to put on a smile and walk without swerving to the side. Stiles was okay, he was going to be fine. Nothing else mattered.

 

They walked up stairs frantically, nudging the doors open as they pooled around Scott’s parents in the waiting room, ‘thank you’s and encouraging smiles being exchanged while the Sheriff hastened into the room with a doctor to check on his son. Lydia forced herself to stay right where she was, knowing that even if she was allowed to see him, it would be too much pain for her fragile heart to handle. Her Stiles being linked up to all those machines, with his eyes shut in a false image of peace. The guilt had already run her down enough, she couldn’t see him that way.

 

Besides, she didn’t want to hear the flickering of his heartbeat just in case something went disastrously wrong. Her thoughts were cut off when Scott gently squeezed her arm, nodding towards the Sheriff walking towards them. The alpha looked as tired as her, though she suspected it had more to do with the exhaustion of almost losing his best friend - his brother. She smiled politely at him, returning the reassuring touch before expectantly looking back up, fear clouding her mind again. _Please let him be okay. He doesn’t deserve this._

 

“He’s sleeping now,” Stiles’ father smiled softly, “And he’s just fine.”

 

Her shoulders lightened, and she pushed her face into Scott’s shoulder just in time to hide to gasp of relief that escaped her lips. Her mind flooded with Stiles’ smiles again, and this time she didn’t shut them off.

 

_I see hope is here, in a plastic box_

_I’ve seen Christmas lights, reflect in your eyes_

 

**II.**

Stiles’ eyes saddened when he saw the blood from her wound clotting instead of healing, the way it should’ve been. He and Scott exchanged worried looks, before settling their eyes on the ‘strawberry blonde.’

 

It was hard. It really was, to just watch her lie there without the slightest clue of how her world was going to change, unless it ended before she woke to see that transition. Stiles didn’t want to think that way, but he didn’t want to build castles in the air by assuring himself that things would turn out to be just fine. It was harder than that.

 

He stroked her hair away from her face, his hands lingering above her for too long before drawing back. Scott empathetically stared at this quiet token of affection, hardly able to imagine seeing Allison in Lydia’s place. Stiles had given up on analyzing for the day, so he sighed in content, just happy to watch the heart monitor record steady ups and downs. His hand aimlessly drifted to hers, curling around it immediately. It might seem tragic that she couldn’t return the gesture, but to Stiles, it was enough to just see her alive, the spark in her hair alight once again.

 

_There’s dry blood, on your wrist_

_Your dry blood on my fingertip_

 

Her hands shook as she walked up the stairs of the hospital. She had no idea how she’d reached here. One minute she was driving away from school, settling down in an empty parking lot to try and quieten her mind, and the next she had found herself turning onto the road to BHMH. One door, two doors, three doors. Lydia paused, her eyes flickering to the knob of the fourth door in hesitation. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, her mind began to whisper again, this time, the voice purely her own. She shut her eyes tightly and tried her hardest to clear her mind, the bright lights of the corridor leaving impressions behind her eyelids. She had to be here for Stiles. She was his tether, as it had been proved so many times, and it wasn’t in her hands to deny that. But more importantly, he was Stiles. The boy that stayed up nights at the very same hospital waiting for her to heal. The boy that spend the better part of his time with her, always next to her when she needed reassuring smiles or a reminder of how important she was to him and to the rest of the pack.

 

The boy who could possibly soon be diagnosed with parts of his brain shrinking.

 

Lydia steeled herself against all the negativity staring her in the face and pushed the door in, letting out a breath. She saw Stiles immediately, sitting on a chair outside the RF shielded room containing the MRI machine. Scott was with him, of course, and Melissa and the Sheriff were talking to the doctor about preparations. It didn’t take him more than a second to notice the newcomer either, and she saw his fingers stop fiddling with each other as he looked up. Their eyes met and the electricity in the atmosphere jumped, as if an immense spark had been created.

 

“Lydia?” he widened his eyes, sounding surprised.

 

“Hi, Stiles,” she replied, shooting him a quick smile before shutting the door behind herself.

 

He got up quietly, raising his eyebrows at Scott before looking back at her, the blue hospital gown smoothing out it’s crinkles. “I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know you were coming.”

 

_Neither did I._

 

“Scott told me about the tests,” Lydia replied, trying to keep her voice from cracking on the last word, “I just wanted to drop by.”

 

Stiles continued to look shocked for a few seconds, before a small smile crept onto his lips. He nodded in response, waving his arms around in a nervous manner that made Lydia’s heart jump, “That’s, uh, real nice of you.. thanks.”

 

She let out a short laugh, looking away from his eyes that were swimming with a thousand emotions. Why in the world was her heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird? 

 

Scott coughed awkwardly, pushing himself onto his feet before walking over to his mother. Lydia couldn’t help but catch the slight smile on his face, something she hadn’t spotted in a long while. Taking that as his cue, Stiles stepped up to Lydia, his fingers a knotted mess. She didn’t blame him for not knowing what to say. Lydia hadn’t exactly been very outward with her feelings towards him, in fact, this was probably one of the very few times she’d taken a step out of her comfort zone to do the same. He might be used to having the last word, but this time, she’d knocked him slightly off his feet.

 

“So, uh, do you have your earmuffs?”

 

What?

 

“Ear—earmuffs?” Stiles looked a bit taken aback, his hands ceasing to shake for a while.

 

Lydia bit her tongue, realizing how out of place that must’ve seemed. Considering the recent developments towards Stiles inside her stomach, she should’ve gone with something poetic or along the lines of a confessional speech. Words that could depict the emptiness she felt inside her when she thought about losing him, something as dark and beautiful as the fact that she could hear his voice through a radio, because of powers she didn’t even know how to control. She wasn’t the kind of girl used to not being in control, but the way the back of Stiles’ eyes blazed with sincerity and hope had her stumbling at every step.

 

And so, when faced with warmth erupting out of her chest at the sight of the jittery boy that made her feel human, she had fallen back onto something that didn’t waver; her smarts.

 

“Y-yeah? You know, the rapid pulses of electricity through all those metal coils and wires inside the machine create a huge ruckus,” Lydia rambled, tugging at the straps of her handbag. (Sort of like ones that run through her spine when she feels his gentle touch on her back.)

 

“Oh,” Stiles acknowledged, his eyes filling up with pride and amusement at how she always managed to thump him at the game of wits, “I’ll probably be alright without any protection, you know, I do listen to a fair share of metal.”

 

She grinned, feeling the atmosphere clear up a bit. “Ah, of course. You and your Satan-worship. Boys.”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes as far as she could, her own laugh stifling while watching him laugh and ruffle his hair in the most adorable way. He didn’t miss the sudden lack of music in the room, his eyes shooting up to catch hers. And for half a second, she considered keeping her walls down, hiding the delight dancing in her eyes. Saying everything that was running in circles inside her head, mocking her every time she let a chance to say it slip away. Maybe just for once, she could let him see the effect he had on her, the way he could make her insides turn to liquid with a simple blink of an eye. Maybe Stiles would see her moist eyes and step right up to her, kissing the tears away with the feathery touch that made her bones ache.

 

It was just for a second, though.

 

“Stiles?” The Sheriff’s voice pulled her out of her stupor, a shiver running throughout her body.

 

“Yeah dad?” Stiles replied, not breaking his eye-contact with Lydia, a look of utter confusion drowning his expression.

 

“We’re ready for you.”

 

“I-I,” he hesitated longer than he should have, looking at Lydia with an expectant look. She was about to say something, he swore it. And he was pretty sure he’d break down right there if she didn’t. Her lips remained sealed, her gaze dropping to the hospital floor before she shut her eyes. Stiles mumbled something, and began to turn around. Lydia could swear she heard his heart crack. This was it, it was now or in her dreams every night, and Lydia didn’t think she could take that hurt anymore.

 

Ignoring everyone else present in the room, her hand hooked onto Stiles’ arm, her eyes opening into a slight blur. He froze at once, glancing behind him before saying, “I’ll be right there.”

 

The door shut behind the trio, and that was all it took. Lydia eyes began to flow with tears, sobs racking her small frame as her palm slipped off his arm, clutching her bag to her chest instead. Stiles’ arms didn’t take much time to fold around her shaking back, one hand protectively rising to cradle her head as she lowered her face into his shoulder. “Shh, Lydia, it’s okay.”

 

“No,” she mumbled incoherently, shrinking into the warmth of his body. He instinctively clutched her tighter, stroking the back of her neck before placing a kiss on her temple. But something wasn’t right. He was the broken one here, she should be putting pieces of him back together, not the other way around. For once, she had to return the favor.

 

“Stiles, it’s not, it’s not okay,” she said, turning her head so he could hear her clearly, “It’s not f-fair, to you, or to Scott, or your dad, or-or me.”

 

His body went rigid, before he pulled away just enough to hold her cheeks between his hands, his eyebrows creasing in worry. “I know, I know that, but hey? It’s going to alright, okay? You don’t have to worry about me, I’m sure I’ll-I’m probably just fine.”

 

Stiles smiled at her softly, his fingers tracing the tears running down her face. She nodded slightly, looking skeptical and cheated by fate for a long stretch of time, before she finally looked up at him. “Yes, you’re going to be just fine, I-I know that, but I still have to say.. something.”

 

He half-nodded, cocking his head to the side. She noticed him gulp, a sadness washing over her. “I can’t afford to lose you, Stiles, okay? And I don’t just mean that I don’t want the results of this scan to be positive, or that I want you to stop being so hard on yourself all the time, and that you have to start spending some time on yourself, doing things that you enjoy and not just things you have to do to protect the pack. I don’t want all that, I need it. I need you to, to stop driving yourself mad over small things, and blaming yourself, and taking so much weight on your shoulders! Just because you’re smart doesn’t mean that you can solve everything for us. We don’t need you to do that. We need you to tell us when you can’t sleep, and when you feel alone, and empty and drained out.”

 

Stiles was gaping more than he had in his entire life, but Lydia would not let him speak. “You’ve gotta stop worrying everyone, and me! You’re driving me mad, alright? God, you cannot just walk up to my door every morning and offer me a ride when it’s impossible for me to breathe, let alone talk to you! You have to stop holding my hand and telling me how much you care about me when I’m just choking on the same words in my own throat, and, you can’t pucker your lips into those stupid pouts when I beat your time at a Sudoku, because it’s so hard not to-to,”

 

Her eyes widened in realization of what she had just spilled, the shock of actions giving her a major brain freeze. For a genius, she could do some pretty stupid things.

 

“Not to what?” Stiles whispered, licking his lips, his heart melting for the girl in front of him.

 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know—” Lydia exclaimed, staring at his eyes with the blankest of expressions that didn’t reflect the overflow of emotions inside her.

 

His lips captured her before she figured out how to finish, the gears whirring inside her head ceasing all at once. His fingers squeezed the sides of her face as he kissed her slowly, with eyes shut in bliss. Feeling something bubble in her stomach, she closed hers as well, standing on her tip-toes as she returned it passionately. That was all she needed. For Stiles to be alive, and to be by her side, so they could figure it all out together. She remembered the locker room on that bright morning, her hands grasping at his face to calm him down, the emergency blaring in her mind before she pushed her lips onto his. She smiled, finally understanding why in that moment his world had started spinning again.

 

Just this time, it was her turn to hold her breath.

 

_First night of your life, curled up on your own_

_Looking at you now, you would never know_

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! This is my second Stydia fic, so I hope you guys enjoyed it. :) I have to say it's one of the things I've enjoyed most to write. GOD BLESS YOU, PROMPTERS ON STYDIA-FANFICTION. 
> 
> Feedback is very welcome!


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